A Heartbeat so Faint
by crookedview
Summary: She was always a firm believer that life went on, no matter what. But now she can’t remember what life used to be like.
1. Chapter 1

She was always a firm believer that life went on, no matter what. But now she can't remember what life used to be like. And it's only been three days.

Izzie wills herself to fall back to sleep. Without her job, now she can sleep all she wants to, which is a lot. It's hard to get out of bed now; like her muscles are all limp and can't handle any exertion at all. It even takes effort sometimes to open her eyes, especially during the day, when sunlight seeps through the window.

The shade is down, but there's a crack where she can see the window and a sliver of trees and grass and living things. That small ray of light spreads across the room, falling directly on Izzie's face when she's lying on the right side. She wishes she could get up and close the shade completely, but she doesn't have the energy.

It's not pain she's feeling right now. Izzie hasn't felt pain since that initial shock of finding him, cold to her hands and blurry through her eyes. Now what she feels is more of an extreme indifference. There is no need to work, because she quit. There is no regret for quitting either. She doesn't feel like she's wasting time, because she can't sense time any more. She doesn't even feel lonely, alone in the house.

There's nothing to do but sleep and stare at the ceiling. There's nothing to feel, nothing to see, no life to go on with.


	2. Chapter 2

She is so thirsty. Her throat hurts and she almost chokes when she swallows. She doesn't want to leave the warmth of her bed, but Izzie takes a shaky breath and climbs out of it, shoving the down comforter out of the way. Her legs ache and her arms are limp at her sides. Her bare feet are cold even though there is a carpet on the floor.

The kitchen is only just down the hall, and she thinks she has the strength for that. Maybe. She feels as if she has the flu – her body hurts and she is dizzy and cold. The room swirls around in front of her. Purple dots cloud her vision, and she leans against the nightstand for a moment. She should just go back to bed. Maybe someone will bring her a glass of water. No. She can handle just a quick walk a few rooms away.

It's just down the hall. Then she can sit down at the table until she feels better. She opens her door and squints as bright light in the hall greets her. Her hands are on the wall, heavily pushing on hard plaster. A few more steps, and she is in the kitchen.

A wave of nausea passes over her, and the purple dots seem to multiply in her eyes. All she has to do is cross the room to the fridge, but the room suddenly seems a mile long. She trips on something she cannot see, and falls hard on the tiles, her legs crumpled painfully underneath her.

Izzie can't get up. "George? Mer?" She calls out. She hears only the hum of the heater. "Callie?" she asks doubtfully, but no one answers. Suddenly she is filled with emotion for the first time in eons – rage. Where is everyone? Why would they just leave her here? Is this what Denny felt like – breathless, weak and alone? For years, is this how he functioned day after day? No, it must have been forty times worse. But she can't imagine anything forty times worse than what she feels now.

Her friends have abandoned her in this huge house. Maybe they're working. Working in that hospital where people die every day. She used to like working. Now she knows she can't ever set foot in there again, not in that building with death in every sterile white room.

So she lies on the floor, eyes closed and muscles burning, waiting for a change.


	3. Chapter 3

It is quiet for a long time, and her legs begin to go numb, prickles going up and down. Then she hears the slam of the front door. It shakes the entire house, reverberating around the house and making Izzie's head hurt.

For one wild, disoriented minute, Izzie thinks it's Denny. Her eyes snap open, only to realize the ludicroucy of that fleeting thought, and her pulse slows.

She listens to the sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floor and a tired sigh. It is only Meredith. Then Izzie hears a gasp, and Meredith is down on her knees next to her. Izzie looks up to see her friend's concerned face, pinched and white. She looks like she's been crying. But Izzie doesn't inquire about it; she can't handle her own emotions right now and she can't invest in someone else's. She knows that's selfish, but then, no one else she knew had a fiancé one minute and their funeral to attend to the next.

"Izzie? What happened? Can you get up?" Meredith's voice squeaks a little, like it always does when she's frazzled. She reaches out and puts her hand on Izzie's shoulder tentatively.

Izzie shrugs it off with as much anger as she can muster. "Where was everybody? You just leave me here all day while you go and work, and then come home looking all _worried_? Denny…" she doesn't know what else to say, so she makes an effort to sit up instead. She's so weak, she can feel her arms shaking as she tries to support her upper body.

Meredith doesn't break eye contact. She looks at Izzie intently. "George and I have been switching off, for the past three days. The first two, we both stayed home. He's at work today, I'm not. So I can take care of you. I was just getting popsicles for you. I was gone for fifteen minutes."

"Popsicles?"

"You're dehydrated. You threw up four times last night and you haven't eaten or drank in days. Popsicles."

She forcefully lifts Izzie up by the waist, and after a moment, Izzie throws her arm around her neck for extra support. They slowly make their way across the kitchen and into the living room. Izzie collapses on the couch and closes her eyes, exhausted. She doesn't remember throwing up, or George or Meredith taking care of her. It seems like years ago that she was in the hospital, playing scrabble and laughing with Denny. It seems like she had been here, alone, forever.

She feels something being placed in her hand. She opens her leaden eyes. "I don't like lime flavored." She mutters, but Meredith sits down on the couch, flipping on the television. Izzie pulls her knees up to her chin to make room for her, and wipes the tangled hair out of her face. "You smell like Seattle Grace."

Meredith glances sideways at her. "What're you talking about?"

"Latex and metal and coffee." Izzie says, leaning her aching head back on the arm of the couch. "I'm never going back. I can't." sheadds flatly.

"You will if you don't eat the damn popsicle." Meredith says sternly.

So Izzie obliges, feeling the slightest bit better than she had been. Maybe shehasn't beenso alone.

**A/N Next chapter takes place at the hospital, with George and Burke. I'm lookingat some Izzie/Burke friendship in future chapters. Remember the Thanksgiving episode? I love them!**


	4. Chapter 4

George knocked on the thick wooden door of hospital room number 338. He wasn't spending lunch eating with Callie, who was getting on his nerves. In fact, he was avoiding her. The far better alternative to wandering down the halls where he might be seen was to visit Burke.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Burke standing, looking perfectly healthy and wearing jeans and a sweater. Cristina sat cross-legged on his bed wearing her standard scrubs and her standard pissed-off frown.

"Are you going home?" George asked Burke, ignoring Cristina's glare.

Burke grinned from ear to ear. "Yes, finally. I can't stand to be at the hospital and not working. I'd much rather be home if I'm not working." He glanced at Cristina, who had decided to avert her glare to the wall in front of her. "Not for a while at least." He added hastily, looking back at George.

Just as George was going to ask when Burke thought he'd be back to surgery, his cell phone rang. It was Meredith. "S'cuse me." He said, before slipping out the door. Even before he closed it, he could clearly hear Cristina's angry mutter, but couldn't make out what she was saying.

Then he flipped open his phone. "Hello?"

There was a pause before Meredith answered in a loud, agitated whisper. "George, I need you to do me a big favor. I need… some IV equipment. Izzie's worse. All I did was give her a popsicle and... she's collapsed and thrown up again, and her fever's gone to 103.8 She –"

"So why can't you drive her into the hospital? Are you asking me... are you asking me to steal hospital equipment?" George lowered his voice and looked around. The hall was empty, and the only sound he could hear was Cristina yelling about God knows what.

Meredith sighed impatiently. "She won't go. She says she can't ever go back to Seattle Grace. When I told her she had to, she started shaking and hyperventilating." George could hear the electric worry in her voice. "I _need_ that stuff. Here."

He shook his head and stared down at the white tiled floors. "Uh…okay, okay." He took a deep breath. "If this is what we have to do." He hung up without another word, before he could waver and change his mind.

He stepped back into the room to see Burke with his arms crossed and looking furious. Cristina was standing, rigid in front of him.

"You can't just tell me how to act, Burke! I don't _function_ by getting all teary eyed and emotional. That's not what I do! I-" she realized George was behind her and stopped, livid. With one final nasty look at both of them, she stormed out.

Burke rubbed his forehead tiredly with his good hand. "O'Malley, couldn't you have –"

"It's important. I kind of need your help." George said nervously. "Actually, Izzie needs your help."


	5. Chapter 5

Izzie wakes up feeling nauseous and achy. She feels hot and oddly detached from her body. Before she even opens her eyes, she realizes three things. She is back in her bed, there's a needle in her arm, and she is not alone. From the strain of the mattress, she can feel the weight of a person sitting at the foot of her bed.

Again, for one elated split second, she thinks it must be Denny. _There's only one person who would sit with me while I'm sleeping_, she thinks. When she remembers, she feels the air rush out of her lungs with a sensation much like if she'd been punched in the stomach. _Idiot!_ She feels like screaming. _Get it in your head, he's never been to your house, he's never sat on your bed, he's never taken care ofyou whenyou're sick, and he never will. _

Under her closed eyelids, two tears squeeze out and drip down both cheeks.

"Izzie."

She hears Preston's voice, and she looks at him finally. She doesn't know what he's doing here; his presence surprises her. He hasn't been to the house in months. Somewhere in her dim memory, she also remembers that he was shot. Why isn't he a hospital patient?

"What are you doing here?" she manages to say, but it's hard to form words and her voice sounds strange in her ears.

"I came to give you the IV. And a doctor's house call." He smiles gently and speaks softly. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't know." Izzie answers as her gaze turns to that crack of light coming from underneath her window shade.

Burke turns to face her and leans forward slightly, looking intently at her. "I'm going to make you better."

A fury Izzie didn't know she had rises up in her, and she feels her face grow even hotter. Her hands clench at her sides. "You can't _make me better_." She seethes at him. "You can't just snap your fingers and all of a sudden, I'm perfectly fine. In one hour, everything changed. I gave up my job and my career. I'm never going back. But I don't really care about that. I would have, under any other circumstance. I would have thought the world was ending, that I was a failure and an idiot. Now, I wouldn't mind if I never left this room again. Because somewhere between choosing a prom dress and losing my job, I also lost…" she chokes on tears that do not spill out of her eyes. They just stay poised, quivering over her lashes.

Preston reaches out to touch her arm, but then seemingly rethinks his action and recoils quickly, as if lashed out at. He folds his hands together, and rests them on her blanket, his expression concerned. He does not speak, so Izzie swallows a few times and tries to continue.

"I lost the only man I've ever… I've ever loved. You can't…" she hiccups, almost hysterical. "You can't just say you're going to make me better. That's…"

"That's impossible. You'll never recover." Preston interrupts finally. Izzie is silent. She lets him tentatively take her hand. "I only meant I'd solve your dehydration. The least of your worries, but I'll do what I can. Izzie, to tell you I could fix your broken heart would make me the most foolish person you've ever met. Don't let anyone tell you they can do that."

Izzie gulps down another sob, not knowing how to respond. So she doesn't. She takes deep breaths and calms herself until she is breathing normally and her tears have dried. And Burke only smiles sadly. A moment passes, and Izzie's eyes begin to droop again. He gets up and pulls her shade closed all the way, so her room is enveloped in darkness. He leaves after checking on her one more time, closing the door with a quiet click.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N **– **Melanie – good point, but whoa, there! You see how short my chapters are. I'm getting to Alex, don't worry.**

Izzie wakes up smelling spices. Someone is cooking in the kitchen, the scents wafting through the open door. To her amazement, her stomach rumbles softly and she realizes that she is hungry for the first time. She sits up, ignoring the dizziness and the blurring of her vision.

When she reaches the kitchen, she sees Burke sitting at the table, reading a thick book. He looks up at her and puts the book down. "Izzie," he says. "Where's your IV?" He doesn't sound patronizing, just gentle and inquisitive.

"I pulled it out. Can I have some of what you're making?"

"Really?" Burke is surprised too. He glances at the stove, and Izzie's eyes follow his. It must be a kind of soup. He gets up as Izzie sits down gingerly in the chair across from him. She runs her hands over the smooth wooden surface of the table. It is clean and warm.

Burke puts a small bowl of soup in front of her. The steam travels upwards into her face, hitting her skin like backwards rain. It is a simple meal, made with chicken broth, rice and vegetables. It smelled enticing before, but with it in front of her, she suddenly felt nauseous again. She doesn't reach for the spoon Burke put in front of her.

"Why aren't you working?" she asks instead.

"I was shot." Burke says flatly. She sees him glance almost imperceptibly at his right hand before lifting his head.

Izzie remembers this now, the truth slapping her in the face. She had forgotten. She hadn't even asked if he was okay this whole time. It was okay, she tells herself. She couldn't be blamed; something is wrong with her. She keeps thinking Denny was going to walk through the door, but she can't evenfeel the appropriate griefwhen she remembers that he never will. She can't even eat, for God's sake. She doesn't say anything to Burke in apology; she is too embarrassed. Besides, too much time has passed now, and it would be awkward.

She dips her spoon into the soup, filling it only with broth, and lifts it to her lips. She gags when the broth hits her throat, and she coughs it back up.

Burke looks concernedly at her. "Izzie?"

"I can't do it." She says, and she notices that her hands are shaking and her skin is prickling.

"That's okay. Let's just hook you back up to the IV…" but his voice slurs together, and Izzie can't see him, she can only see blurry shapes and fading colors. She feels herself being lifted from the chair, and she tries to make her legs move, but they are leaden. She tries to speak but nothing comes out of her mouth. She tries for the hundredth time to cry, but her eyes are dry and lifeless.


	7. Chapter 7

Meredith walks down the halls, her shoes squeaking a little as they make contact with the clean white hospital floors. She is going up two flights to visit with a patient – bone cancer – but other things are on her mind. Usually she is almost completely absorbed in her work. Or the various men that make her life a living hell. But now she is finally thinking unselfishly of Izzie.

Meredith has never seen any friend so seriously depressed. Her eyes are hollow, and her face is always pasty white. Because she is so weak, her hands shake and her knees buckle when she walks around, which is seldom.

No one knows what to do when they are around her, her sorrow is so deep. George sits without speaking, or he begins to say something and his mouth quickly snaps shut as if he doesn't trust himself to say the right thing. Cristina is brisk and inhuman, as always, but sometimes Meredith catches her looking at Izzie with an expression of worry. She herself tries to be as motherly as possible, but her comfort falls on deaf ears. Sometimes, Izzie doesn't even acknowledge her and instead stares ahead like a limp glass-eyed doll.

Burke is the only one who knows what he's doing. His gentleness is the only thing Izzie truly responds to, and though Meredith feels twinges of jealousy that her friend finds more solace in Burke than in her, she is more grateful than anything.

Meredith's squeaking shoes are annoying the hell out of her. She glares down at them as if they have done her a personal wrong.

She suddenly feels her downturned head bump against something soft. She looks up quickly and realizes with a jolt that the soft thing she bumped into was Derek's chest. She leaps backwards with a strangled noise, feeling her cheeks go red.

He looks surprised to see her, and she realizes this is the first time she's seen him since the prom. "Sorry." She says quickly, and spins around in the other direction as fast as her goddamn squeaky shoes can take her.

* * *

Nearly stumbling down the hall, Meredith's heart is racing. How can she go on working every day with _Derek_ to slam into when she isn't paying attention? How can she get on with her life if he's around every corner? She needs a drink, but her shiftends inanother eleven hours. 

She leans over the nurse's desk for a moment, awed by the fact that she actually needs to take a breath and calm down.

Through her closed eyes, she knows that someone is next to her. _Not Derek, please, not Derek._ It is Alex. He looks unnaturally quiet and melancholy, and though Meredith knows why, she waits for him to say something.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." she says softly. No way she's going to give him an explination.

"How... how's Izzie?" He looks almost embarrassed to being her up, and Meredith is reminded of a little boyadmitting a crush on a girl that he likes. Alex doesn't break eye contact, though, he looks steadily on at her. "Is she better with the IV?"

"She's not so good." Meredith says, placing a shaky hand on the counter and standing up straighter. "She's very dehydrated, even with the IV at home. She keeps trying to pull it out and walk around without it. Why,did-"

"She doesn't want me around, okay?" Alex says, his voice suddenly raised, and his face showing signs of pain and guilt.

Meredith jumps at his hostile tone, involuntarily stepping backwards. She was only going to ask if Bailey knew about the stolen equipment, but she doesn't say anything now.

Alex goes on. "After what I said about Denny - you heard what I said - she'd kill me if I went anywhere near her. You think I don't want to go see her?" His voice is pained, and Meredith is sure this is the first time he's shown to herany strong emotion other than anger. He grabs her wrist, and she doesn't pull away. "Don't try to tell me she'd be happy to see me." he says, and there is a catch in his voice.

Then he lets go of her, and is gone before she can reply. She wouldn't have anyway.


End file.
